Led by guitarist and chief composer Vernon Reid (also a
music critic and co-founder of the Black Rock Coalition, a
New York organization of African-American bands), Living
Colour promises more than it delivers on Vivid.
Because the quartet doesn't match stupid preconceptions
about the kind of music people of color should and
shouldn't play, the record raised many a bigoted eyebrow.
But such issues aside, this is fairly routine hard-rock,
loudly produced by Ed Stasium. (Ironically, one of the LP's
few funky moments is contained in a version of Talking
Heads' "Memories Can't Wait.") But if Vivid is
lacking in the catchy tune/riff department, the topical
lyrics are substantial ("Cult of Personality," "Open Letter
(To a Landlord)"), occasionally using ironic humor to make
a point ("No I'm not gonna rob / beat / rape you, so why
you want to give me that funny vibe?"). Reid's shred-ready
guitar cuts loose just once (très flash, though); Mick
Jagger's guest production of two tracks makes no audible
difference.

With a two-million seller and a tour opening for the
Stones behind them, Living Colour (again working with
Stasium) made Time's Up from a position of
considerable strength. When Reid vents his spleen on the
Presley coronation (in "Elvis Is Dead"), he can get Little
Richard in to add his thoughts on the subject.
While "Pride," "Type" and "Information Overload" keep the
group's headbanger credentials intact, they also bolster
Vernon Reid's guitar-god status, as he twists together
jazzy modals and punky, staccato riffs  though he
also displays a deft touch with African high-life rhythms
on the hypnotically buoyant "Solace of You." The album has
a stronger Afrocentric consciousness than the first, most
bluntly in "Pride" ("Don't ask me why I play this music /
It's my culture, so naturally I use it"). But the band has
more (or less) to say on Time's Up, the title track
of which pays homage to mentors Bad Brains. Singer Corey
Glover gets to showcase on the desperate blues of "Love
Rears Its Ugly Head" and the spare, lusty funk of "Under
Cover of Darkness."

Biscuits is a filler EP containing two outtakes
from Time's Up and four live tracks from '89
and '91. The covers of James Brown, Al Green and Talking
Heads provide a road map through Living Colour's
influences; Reid's treatment of Jimi Hendrix's "Burning of
the Midnight Lamp" is a highlight of his recording
career.

Bassist Muzz Skillings split before Stain,
irreparably altering the focus and chemistry of the
original foursome. Doug Wimbish proved a fine fill-in, but
he was still finding his way into the band when
Stain was recorded. That's not to say the album's a
bomb: "Ausländer" and "Postman" show that Reid still
leads a fierce rock outfit; "Nothingness" is dense, ambient
funk that lets Glover roll over a fluid Wimbish bass vamp.
Topical as ever, Living Colour offers a post-Rodney King
rail against police ("This Little Pig") and makes its case
for sexual tolerance on the clever "Bi," about a couple who
cheat on each other  with the same woman. Still,
Stain is off-kilter, the work of a group trying to
heal itself and get back on course.

Living Colour never achieved either, breaking up in 1994
and sending Glover to a VJ seat on VH1 and Reid to myriad
musical projects. The Japanese Dread is the best of
the live souvenirs released in other countries; the group's
playing is solid, brilliant at times, and it includes an
acoustic version of "Nothingness" and a take on
Prince's "17 Days." Ironically, four new songs recorded in
1994  which crop up on the Pride retrospective
 form what could have been the core of another
compelling Living Colour album. "Release the Pressure"
and "Sacred Ground" are molten rockers, "Visions" treads
more ambient soul terrain  an American Seal with
testosterone  and "These Are Happy Times" is
convincing, stomping funk. Too late to save the group,
these souvenirs at least provide an assurance that Living
Colour never suffered for ideas.

In 1996, Reid returned with his first solo album,
intriguingly co-produced by Prince Paul and Teo Macero.